Sketti!
by Emily-Mel
Summary: Once a fleeting idea, this three-part fic is pure insanity. No redeeming characteristics beyond the ability to make you laugh. Guaranteed.
1. My Little Darling...

Gundam Wing Fic--Sketti!!

  
**SKETTI!!**   
  


Hi there y'all! This is simply a silly little fic that took over my life... I planned on just one part, but it turned into three. People need to laugh more in order to feel better and this can be seen as my effort to accomplish a general increase in well-being. Love me! 

Oh, the text in Italics represent thoughts. Figured I'd warn you ;)   
  
--Mel  


**Part 1**   
  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++ **  
*munch, munch, munch*   
  
*slurp*   
  
*schloop-splorch* **

_That's the best thing about spaghetti: the perfect food is more than just a taste sensation--it's a full physical and spiritual experience that leaves you satisfied on so many levels._   
  
*scrape*   
  
*twirl*   
  
*shl-galumph* 

Meditatively chewing another mouthful of pasta, Duo unearths a rare treasure from the canned meal. There it sits, surrounded by pink squishy strings. 

One glorious, glistening meatball! 

He gives silent thanks to whatever benevolent culinary spirits were responsible for this windfall before spearing it wih his fork. Um... at least he tries to puncture the sphere. It slips around the plate, a tiny *sproing* as it resists the dull metal tines again and again. 

Growing frustrated, he grips the fork and brings it down in a fierce stabbing motion. His hand rebounds toward the ceiling while the meatball sails off the table.   
  
*boink* 

It ricochets off a cabinet and comes to a spinning stop on the floor. 

_It's still good. A little bit of dirt never hurt anybody._ He pounces on the stubborn treat. It skitters across the kitchen tiles, picking up more grime and an occasional hair. 

_It's still good!_ Snarling, Duo scuttles after it. Round and round they go until an errant poke sends the meatball shooting underneath the refridgerator. 

Desperately scrabbling at the appliance, he tries to shift it. _I can see it-- I just can't get at it. It's still good!!_ Throwing back his head and reaching to the heavens in supplication with the one hand not trapped, he screams out a soul-wrenching "NO!" 

A discrete cough from the doorway snags his attention. Springing up (and only slightly dislocating his shoulder), Duo spots the menacing quartet. Quatre steps forward with the saddest, most apologetic expression the American had ever seen. 

"We've had a bit of a family meeting--" 

"Team meeting," Wufei snaps. 

Casting a beatific glance back, the blonde continues. "Yes, it seems there are a few items the others wish to have addressed. It has been brought to my attention there exist certain--how shall I put it?--imbalances in the current financial situation." 

Wrinkling his brow in cute confusion, Duo tries to decipher the accusation. 

"It's simple, Maxwell. You're eating us out of house and home without even attempting to pay." 

"You're a complete and utter load, Duo." 

"Stop mooching off Quatre," Trowa levels, his one visible eye narrowing dangerously. 

Duo spreads his hands in a placating gesture. "If you all feel like that, I'll just go get some cash and it'll all be square. 'Kay?" 

With a heartfelt sigh, Quatre sinks into a chair. Trowa takes up a protective station behind him. "It's not that simple. We've already levied your bank accounts and that barely begins to cover the tab. You need to get a job. I figure you can just about manage a paper-route." 

"That's crazy talk, man. I can do the clock-punching, but Shinigami don't sling no print. The God of Death does not do mornings." 

Heero picks up the forgotten plate and stalks over to the sink. "Then Shinigami does not eat." Tipping in the spaghetti, he pulls a switch out of his spandex. He presses a red button and, with a sadistic smirk, activates the garbage disposal. Over the grinding motor and rushing water comes an anguished cry: 

"Sketti!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" 

Sobbing, an inconsolable heap shuffles to reclaim a single fragment of the once overflowing feast. "What did it ever do to you?" he asks, petting the limp strand. 

"There's more to life than pasta, Maxwell." 

"Blaspheme!" Duo gasps in horror. "It is the very essence of life. So firm, yet yielding. Succulent and versatile. 

"They say you are merely a vehicle for sauce, my friend," he whispers. "No, you are so much more, darling." Duo coils the tiny remnant in his palm, tenderly caressing it. 

"Be that as it may, you won't be allowed any more until you can repay us through legal means. And no handouts, Winner," Wufei warns. Quatre guiltily mutters "he's just too cute to let starve." 

"I wanted to throw you out," Fei-chan grumbles as he stomps away to his room. Trowa winces when they hear a door slam. "Why does he have to ruin the hinges like that? I just refitted them the other day." 

Squaring his shoulders, Duo makes a decision. "I will survive--even if it means work!" 

"Good for you," Quatre affirms. "Play to your strengths and you'll come up on top."   
  
*slurp* 

"Duo!" three voices chorus. 

Licking the last bit of tomato sauce from his hand, he grins. "You don't expect somebody to go job-hunting on an empty stomach, do ya? Hey, do we have any straws? Maybe I can link 'em and suction that meatball out..."   
  



	2. Get a Job!

Gundam Wing Fic--Sketti!!

  
**SKETTI!!**   
  


**Part 2**   
  
  
**_Previously on 'Sketti!' :   
  
*munch, munch, munch*   
  
*slurp*   
  
"It's still good!!"   
  
"NO!"   
  
"Sketti!!!!!!!!!!!!!"   
  
We now continue with 'Sketti!'_   
  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++ **

_'Play to your strengths'--he knew exactly how he was condemning me when he said that. Damn, I'm out of shape. This hill's killing me._

Huffing, puffing, wheezing and generally gasping for air, Duo laboriously pedals his bicycle over the rough terrain. 

A lengthy period of self-examination, punctuated by spirited grumbling from his stomach, led him to the inevitable conclusion: he is a winsome rogue, a lovable scoundrel, and a procurer. In short, the boy's a thief-- one with some principles, but a thief nonetheless. 

_ They think all I'm good for is to steal stuff, be a Sweeper. I'll show them--I can beat 'em at their own game and avoid serious work at the same time. Yeah, teach them all a lesson,_ he vindictively thinks. Well, that was what he had intended. It's beginning to look like he's the student. Cresting the hill, he stops to catch his breath and check the address listed in an advertisement. 

_Oh, man-- that's clear across town and at this rate, I'll never make it._ A job at a local packing plant had not been his first plan, but Heero's interference squelched the original plot.  
  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++ 

After his bit of introspecive evaluation, he had formulated the perfect painless means to obtaining cold, hard cash. Unfortunately, Heero knew him all too well and was waiting in the garage when he slunk in. 

"No. I can't let you do this, Duo." 

Sputtering, he looked about the room. "It's not like they're going to miss one, right?" he asked, indicating a veritable convoy of vehicles: hot little sports cars, luxury sedans, an off-road rig, a pair of motorcycles, a beat-up truck Wufei insisted on calling "Sharon" and, strangely enough, an ice cream delivery truck with bullet-proof glass (he'd tested it some days earlier--Shi-chan's rating: Deathscythe Hella-good). 

"One of the limitations is you can't do anything illegal. You don't own anything here, so you can't sell it." 

"Aw, come on," he wheedled. "Give me a break and just look the other way for a second. You don't want me to die of malnutrition. Have a little sympathy." 

"It's only been three hours since you last ate." Heero fished around in his spandex and pulled out a neat square of newsprint. "Here, I think you might like this one. There's an opening in their second shift operations." 

Gingerly accepting it in case it decided to detonate and take his arm off, Duo read the small circled ad. _Seems easy enough._ Shrugging his shoulders, he figured at least this way he would have a reason to sleep in late. That would irk Fei-chan to no end ("lazy lump, doesn't know the meaning of real work."), so everybody wins. 

"I guess I've got time to head over today and reply." His recent cash flow problem came back to mind. "You couldn't spare some change for the bus, could ya Hee-chan?" 

Heero simply pointed to a dark corner of the garage. "I believe you not only still own that, but it is sufficient for your current needs." 

"Oh, right. My Christmas present. From Quatre, no less, to replace the one that 'got lost'." Dispirited, dejected, completely bummed out, our hero wheels off into the city astride his four-speed 'Pretty Polly Petal' junior- miss bicycle. 

The pink model with flowing purple and mauve handle ribbons-- and matching fake wicker, plastic daisy bedecked basket. 

"How was I supposed to know those cards were valuable? They made just the coolest sound against the spokes."    
++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Finally sucking in a breath without sounding like the audio track of a porn flick, Duo surveys the town below him. _There's got to be an easier way to get money. Working is for suckers. I haven't earned one cent and already I'm dripping with sweat._

A glimmer from the roadside catches his attention. _Huh?_ Bending closer, he picks up a dented aluminum can. He turns it over in his hand, letting a small amount of liquid drain out onto the grass.   
  
*beep, beeep*   
  
*zooooom*   
  
*thunk* 

Lying in the roadside ditch, Duo stares up at passing clouds, carefully feeling the semi-circular indentation in his forehead, he picks himself up and kicks a glass bottle. 

"Damn near get myself killed a dozen times over fighting a war for these creeps, keeping their homes from getting destroyed, and how do they say thanks? Run me over and chuck trash at me." 

_Trash... Sweepers... 'one man's treasure, dude'... That's it!_ Chuckling with demonic glee, he roots around in the overgrown foliage. _It's so simple... the answer's all around me--it's everywhere!_

"Everywhere!" he screams, thrusting the original, precious can high into the air.  
  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++ 

"Lalala... my lucky day, huh? This ought to be enough." Coasting along, he is within sight of his goal. "Well, maybe one more won't hurt." He pulls off the road and carefully steadies the laden bike on its kickstand. He walks over to the post, spits into his hands and rubs them together. Hastily wiping it off on his pants, he realizes why no one in real life ever does this. _Eew, that's so gross._

He grips the box firmly and gives it a sharp pull. It fails to part from its anchoring post. With a grunt, he heaves again. "Come on, damn it," he urges. Straining his muscles (and causing fangirls everywhere to collapse in a swoon), he hears the securing bolts start to give way. 

_One more time ought to do it,_ he thinks, easing up on his hold.   
  
*schl--pop!* 

He carries the box and post to his bike. With the latest acquistion over one shoulder, he walks the bounty a final few yards. 

Destination--reached. 

Mission accomplished. 

_Sketti, here I come._

"What the hell do you got there, son?" A stout grey-hair bears down on Duo in a swirl of vibrant silks. He shrinks back and stammers an answer. 

"Just some recyclables--aluminum, you know. There's a 'cash-back' policy." He nods at a sign over the convenience center's metal drop-off. 

"Well, we'll see about that now, shall we?" She starts to inspect his basket, muttering as she pokes and prods. 

"Um... excuse me, crazy lady, but what are you doing?" 

"I'm sort of in charge of this place." She points to a name badge. "Control the gates, oversee bulk pick up and drop off, help out where-ever necessary, and keep young punks like you from passing off junk like this as waste." 

"Hey, it's all aluminum and I want my money! I'm hot, sweaty, and hungry." 

Shaking her head, she ticks off his salvaged goods: "Seven pop cans, three steel cans, a gum wrapper--gum included-- and a 'Yield' traffic sign--you're not even trying, are you?" 

"Don't forget the mailbox," he insists. 

"Kid, I'll do you a favor and not report you to the police if you promise to return the sign. The cans are worth a nickel, that gum's just nasty, and you better put that mailbox back--it's mine." She taps one side of the box, right below four-inch painted numbers and the name "D. E. Machina." 

"What if I throw in the bike? That's got to be something... come on, you can't say no to this face." He pastes on a lopsided grin, playing the reliable 'scruffy waif with a heart of gold' (TM) routine for all it was worth. 

"Just you watch me." 

Throwing caution to the wind, he plays his trump card: soulfull, sparkly-wet-with-imminent-tears, dinner plate sized eyes. The old biddy didn't stand a chance. 

"Alright. Twenty-five and that's out of my own pocket, mind you." 

Duo gladly accepts the cash along with a bit of advice: "If you're that strapped for greenbacks, try the plasma and blood banks. You're a little on the thin side, but they don't usually turn folks down."    
++++++++++++++++++++++ 

A city bus screeches to a stop near the latest g-boy safehouse. Yeah, they've got a million of them, and there probably isn't a private school left that hasn't had one of the guys pose as a student while ferreting out some secret, sinister OZ plan. Anyway, the doors swing open and a pale Duo unsteadily falls out. Weaving slightly, he makes his way inside the house. 

_Maybe I shouldn't have gone to those last two plasma centers. I'll need to wear long sleeves for a couple of days, but at least I'm going to eat._ Staggering into the kitchen, he throws a small pile of bills at Wufei. "Gimme some sketti now." 

The other boy doesn't even bother to look up from his dinner. "No way, Maxwell. Not until you've completely paid your debt to society." 

Duo whimpers, his stomach growling in agreement, as he takes in the impassive audience. 

"And don't even think about sneaking anything when we're asleep. Trowa installed some locks on the pantry that not even you can bypass." 

Grumbling, Duo shakily storms off to his room in a weak huff. _This whole day has reeked. And it's all Fei-chan's fault,_ he illogically concludes. He opens his bedroom door, convinced a little sleep will make things look better. 

A dust-bunny huddles forlornly in the far corner, shielding its small brood from the acres of empty frontier. "You... you traitors!" he screams, fists balled in rage. As the echoes die, he seizes the final answer. A perfect revenge and technically completely legal. 

_I won't be selling the stuff because I promise I'll return for it... well, it's an understood promise, if not overtly stated._

With his last reserves of strength, he kicks in Wufei's door. At a downtown movie theater, Trowa momentarily stops munching popcorn and places a buttery hand over his heart. "The pain..." he murmurs. 

"What is it?" Quatre asks, snuggling closer. 

"This feeling--like three hinges crying out then suddenly being silenced." The sensation fades as quickly as it appeared. Confused, but not overly concerned, he settles back and tries to enjoy the movie. 

Meanwhile, Duo is gaping at Fei-chan's sparse bedroom furnishings. _God, he's such a freakin' anchorite. _

Item: one honkin' huge stereo system. Value: outweighed by low probability of toting it to the pawn shop without getting a hernia. 

Item: one polka-dot sheet ("Only weaklings require beds."). Value: nominal. 

Item: one cuddly stuffed panda on sheet. Name: Nataku. Value: merely sentimental--too awkward for transport. 

Item: one little black pig. Name: P-chan. Value: only as an oddity. Where did he pick the thing up? Bad enough he treats it better than anybody else and only slightly worse than his Gundam. No, he had Trowa install 'pig- flaps' on _every_ door. At least I can understand the outside doors, in case it wants to go out, but why would it want to visit Heero? Duo plops down in frustration and stares at the sleeping piggy. 

_Kind of peaceful, you know._ Blood loss, hunger, and a general "Duo- ness" pick that quiet moment to gang up on the poor boy. Otherwise, how can you explain the next thought? 

_Wait a minute. What's a pig except pork on the hoof?_ He pulls a fork out of an ankle-sheath and inches forward.   
  
*poke*   
  
*ernk?*   
  
*poke, poke*   
  
*oink!*   
  
*poke, poke, poke*   
  
*skree!* 

The piggy pops up and skitters away from the fork-wielding maniac. He hits the flap and barrels out into the hallway, trotters madly clicking as he calls for his protector. 

"Come back here, you! Your sacrifice won't be in vain!" Lurching after the meal, Duo crashes into Wufei outside the kitchen. "Out of my way," he yells, pushing off again. He finally traps the bewildered animal. 

"Keep away from my P-chan, you unworthy load."   
  
*thump*   
  
*crash*   
  
*kwee!* 

Heero walks in from his evening class and looks over the damage. Wufei was pulling at Duo's leg while the prone boy retaliated with the closest object to hand--the pig. Punctuating his battle cry of "Jupiter Coconuts Cyclone!" Duo vigorously flails at his agressor's head. 

"Glad to see you two are friends again." Heero goes off to study physics, relieved that everything was back to normal.   
  
  



	3. Revenge of the Sketti!

Gundam Wing Fic--Sketti!!

  
**SKETTI!!**   
  


**Part 3**   
  
  
  
  
***rip*   
  
*schloop*   
  
*schloop*   
  
*stick* **

Smoothing a bandaid across the bridge of his nose, Duo leans back on the hardwood floor. 

_My god, that pig is so vicious. I've got bites on my arms and legs. Weeny bites on my head, chest and back. _

I've even got *ouch* bites on my little bum. How'd he do it? 

With a tiny groan, he spreads out where his bed used to be. After the exhausting 'Battle Royale' in the living room, Duo had crawled back to the relative safety of his empty room. 

_Nothing left but a world of hurting. No furniture, no clothes, no money, no food and --for damned sure-- no friends. *sigh*_

There's a knock on the door. 

"Come in." _Ain't nothing nobody wants here anyway._

Wufei limps in, his black eye the only other visible testament to the power of "Jupiter Coconuts Cyclone" unleashed upon a mere mortal. 

"Here to apologize, Fei-chan? That's all right--I won't make it too excrutiating." 

Scowling, Wufei reaches up and unscrews the solitary lightbulb from its hanging support. A slight sizzle of flesh on heated glass is the only sound as the room is plunged in darkness. 

"But... but why?" Duo begs, scrambling around on his hands and knees. 

Stalking out, Wufei shoots back before snapping the door closed, "You're using too much electricity, Maxwell. Too much of a drain on our resources." 

Alone in a black void, his resolve crumbles. "Real men don't cry," Duo mumbles to himself. "Real men... sketti..."   
  
*sob*   
  
*sniffle* 

He shuffles over to a corner and curls into a ball. Slowly, he starts to fall asleep. One hand drops to the baseboard, encountering a soft resistance. 

_Huh?_ Muzzily, he clamps the form and brings it close. 

_Oh, my little dust-bunny. I remember rescuing you from Trowa's first cleaning spree. Although you did not ask for it, I nurtured and sheltered you. When you were strong enough to strike out on your own, you remainded here and chose to share your life with me. Raising your children in the shadows of Wufei's wrath, Trowa's determined neatness and Heero's... well, I don't know what the hell's wrong with him. Anyway, all that took courage and strength, little one._

Petting the puff, Duo snuggles it to his cheek. _ Thank you for being my friend. My final and most true friend._   
  
*yawn*   
  
*snort*   
  
*gag*   
  
*cough* 

"Damn it! Even you're against me!" Duo gasps and tries to clean the fuzz off his tongue. 

_Surely this is my darkest hour._   
  
*chink*   
  
*clink*   
  
*flap-flap* 

He scurries over to the door, probing his pockets for matches or a lighter. Holding aloft a burning match, he rocks back on his heels in astonishment. 

_It can't be..._

"Ow!" Shaking out the stub, he then sucks the injured fingers before striking another light. In the flickering glow, he beholds the beauty, daring to breathe its name. 

"Sketti." 

With the final match, he reads the accompanying note: "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault you've suffered so. Sorry--- A Friend." 

Stuffing his mouth with the forbidden delight, Duo mulls over his saviour's identity. _Could have at least used somebody else's startionery... really-- "From the desk of Q. R. Winner." The tiny frolicking lions and camels are cute though._

A full tummy happily gurgling through the miracle of digestion, Duo begins to plan his way to paying Wufei back. 

Down the hall, Quatre jumps into bed and pulls the blankets up to his chin. "Now I can sleep without feeling so guilty." 

"Did you just hear something?" 

"Um, no, Trowa. What do you think you heard?" 

"A low chuckle... no, more like a maniacal laugh being carefully stifled. Oh, well." He shuts the book he was reading and turns off a bedside lamp. "I've got more important things to tend to." 

"I should hope so," Quatre purrs.  
  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Wufei bursts into the house the next morning, P-chan bounding along behind and oinking merrily. "What a glorious day! Nothing like a good workout and ten-mile run to get you ready for breakfast, eh, P-chan?"   
  
*ernk!* 

They pile into the kitchen to find a large covered platter on the table. Checking for obvious traps and sneaking down the hall to assure himself the other pilots were still abed, he cautiously looked over at the pig. 

"You didn't...?"   
  
*oink* 

"Well, you were with me the whole time, so I guess that lets you off the hook. But who could it be?"   
  
*oink, skwee* 

"Alright." Wufei removes the dome, unveiling his worst nightmare: the severed head of his beloved stuffed panda ringed with shredded bits of a polka-dot sheet. 

"Nataku!!!!!!!!!" 

Duo turns over on his side and smiles before embracing the peaceful sleep of the avenged.   
  
  
  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Owari   
  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++    
  
  
  
  
HTML created on Feb. 21, 2001 by Mel of M&Em-chan. 


End file.
